potw: winter burrows
Although this is the strangest Idaho winter I have ever experienced (we have no snow and my children run around on the yellow grass every day), we are going to memorize a poem about winter this week. Winter burrows, which sound so cozy and make me want to burrow down in my bed for months on end just like our hibernating friends. This poem is especially appropriate because we have not built a single snowman, gone sledding, or gotten out our kick sled to race down the lane. There isn’t any snow!
by Douglas Florian
Beneath the pond a sleeping frog
Recalls she was a polliwog,
Once wiggling wild beside a log.
The rusty fox deep in his hole
Dreams of chasing mouse and mole,
Schemes of racing red-backed vole.
The fat-cheeked chipmunk can be found
Inside her burrow underground.
She dreams without a single sound.
And me, I’m burrowed in my bed
With cozy quilt above my head
And dreams of snowman, sleigh, and sled.